The False Shepard, The Lamb and The Angel
by archerlily 67
Summary: Clyde Harper could control and make ice and snow out of nothing, Booker Dewitt found him at the age of eight and trained him to be his partner in crime. Now they go together to Columbia to pay back a long forgotten debt to someone from Clyde's past. ELIZABETH/OC SLIGHT FROZEN AU , Disclaimer- I DO NOT OWN BIOSHOCK
1. Chapter 1

Right from the start Clyde knew he was different; he knew he was far from what the other kids in the city were. While most of the children in town were born with tanned skin, forest green eyes and light hair that resembled the copper that their city produced.

His hair was a scruffy mess of ebony which reminded him of fresh coal that resided by the fireplace, his eyes as blue as ice, although while his father had the same hair and pale skin his eyes were a shade of homely brown similar to that of his mother.

But as a child he had always assumed that his eyes had come from some other family member like perhaps his grandmother or grandfather, but alas he was only a boy of eight years old when he discovered why his eyes were so unique, so cold.

It was a rainy day in April the air was musky and dark, school had been cancelled for the day as a result of a flooding thanks to the rain which was around ankle deep at this point.

Sauntering over to the wooden decaying piano in the corner of the apartment he pulled up a nearby chair and began to drum his fingers over each individual key. However it was when he pushed down on the nearest key that he felt a slight chill pass thought his fingers as a thin layer of frost began to work its way over the musical instrument.

Gasping in shock and terror he pulled away from the piano causing the chair to fall to the ground with a thud, he started to panic as flurries of snow and ice shot from his hands. Whimpering in confusion and fear he backed up into the wall and slid down until he hit the wooden floor.

Taking in shallow breaths and bringing his hands to his head as he rocked back and forth with salty tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. Slowly but surly he started to calm down enough for the frost on the walls and piano to melt.

He marvelled as he watched the ice which seemed to have disappeared into the air leaving no puddles or water as normal ice would have. Picking him self up off the floor with shaky limbs he stumbled over to the window and lifted a finger to the glass.

He giggled and watched in childish delight as a series of snowflakes detailed in frost began to cover the see through surface, he was beyond amazed but at the same time confused as to how he was able to conjure such….

Power

But was it really power when all he was able to conjure was some frost and snow?

Then again at his age it was doubtful that he could make weapons out of ice or snowmen that could come alive and play hind and seek with him. Although for now he figured that it was best to keep this a secret from everyone until he could learn to use it properly.

He rushed over to the dresser that stood adjacent to the piano; he pulled out a pair of grey fingerless groves which would hopefully stop another incident from happening for some time.

It was around a year later when his father found out about his curse when he accidently hit a boy with shad of ice he had made from thin air and kicked him out of the apartment calling him a freak and an abomination. His father had literally thrown his out the door with nothing but the clothes on his back, snow stuck to the ground on that cold December night when he was forced to sleep on the streets with no food or means or warmth what so ever.

With no other option he was forced to work in the copper factory with the Irish and coloured folks who took pity upon him since his father had kicked him out at such a young age. But even with the kindness given to him from the other outcasts of the city he still could never find a warm place to sleep at night or food to fill his stomach.

The past two weeks he woke in tears because of sharp hunger pains stabbing him from the inside, his ribs prodded out against his pale skin but could be easily hidden with his baggy brown shirt, black breaches and suspenders.

"You've got small hands so we'll start you out with the other kids working on the machines." The Forman had told him with a bottle of cheap booze in hand and smug grin on his bloated face, he was wearing suspenders that did nothing to hide the beer belly that hung over his tight trousers and stretched his crisp shirt making the buttons pull to an impossible length.

Clyde had simply nodded in response and adjusted his dirty brown cap which helped to his greasy black hair which stuck to his head. The Forman had then pushed him in the other direction where the other children were eating lunch or chatting away on their much needed break.

Most of the kids working there were typically small and skinny, their clothes dirty and scruffy, accents that show their heritage to be either Irish or African American. Some were even known as half breeds born of the Irish and the Coloured; they were given no respect and were simply treated as freaks, slaves and outcasts.

A young girl standing next to him handed him a bowl of oatmeal with a small rice cake on the side, it looked terrible and smelled even worse but it was the only food he had been offered in days. He scoffed it down quickly trying to block the awful taste from his mouth but the onions still lingered on his breath even with the rice cake.

"So, what's your name newbie?" The girl who handed him the oatmeal asked, she had dark skin with down eyes and black hair tied in braids that hung limply over her shoulder which were covered by a dirty beige dress that reached her knees.

"I'm Clyde thanks for the oatmeal by the way." He answered her wiping him hands on his breaches and holding it out for her to shake.

She smiled and shook his hand with her own in a refreshingly enthusiastic way, "No problem Clyde, the names Daisy Fitzroy by the way." She smiled brightly at him revealing surprisingly straight teeth and cracked lips due to the cold winds of the New York winter that raged brutally outside the factory walls.

He grinned for the first time in days and followed Daisy who directed him to his work station and showed him how to make coins with melted down copper, freezing cold water that came from the snow outside which had been melted in bulk under a furnace, metal moulds and a small pick to pry the coins from their moulds.

Forming a thin layer of ice around his hands to stop the melted copper from burning him hands, he poured the liquid into the moulds and set them aside to set. "How long have you worked here then Daisy?" He asked her trying to keep conversation to a good and healthy pace.

She lightly smiled at him and threw her copper coins into a nearby bucket of cold water. "Only about a month, but after a day you get pretty used to how things work around here."

He sighed and continued on working until the sun seeped under the buildings and the sky grew dark. He had walked Daisy home that night under the stars and trough the dirty streets that were infested with vermin and disease.

"Thanks, for walking me home Clyde, I'll see you tomorrow then?" She had said as she lingered in the doorway, her ripped woollen shawl wrapped around her skinny shoulders and bags that hung under her eyes as a result of sleep deprivation and stress.

"Yes, yes tomorrow, I'll see you then." He chimed as he walked back down the bleak street towards the bakery, the owner usually left a box of stale bread outside in the trash can. After work Clyde would take what he could and then sleep in the ally behind the bakery with his scratchy blanket that he hid behind the trash can in the mornings.

The wind howled in his ears as he walked on brooding about the unfair equality given to those who the rich Americans believed were lower than themselves in both social standing and standards, just because someone was a different colour to you it does not mean that you can treat them as salves or punish them simply to suit your personal gain.

His shoes clicked against the cobblestone street covered in ice that glistened in the moonlight and snow that crunched against the weight of his already thin and fragile frame. Wrapping his arms around himself he let out a shuddery breath that came out in a cloud of frost, squinting against the cold he began to hum a simple tune that his mother had once sung to him as a lullaby in happier days.

"You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine;

You make me happy when skies are grey,

You never know dear how much I love you

So please don't take my sunshine away."

He could only remember so much of his mother, he remembered her auburn hair and green eyes that always reflected kindness and made you feel as if there was no body else she so looked forward to seeing. He remembered her intelligence and grace when she played the piano or read him books of the quantum theory even though he could only begin to comprehend what she spoke of.

He remembered the day she walked out after fighting with his father, she had called him ignorant and in retaliation he had burned each and every one of her books saying that a woman's place was in the kitchen and doing housework not in some stupid book about dreams she could never even hope to achieve, Grabbing her coat she stormed out and never came back.

He remembered that her name was Rosalind Lutece; she was seventeen years old when she had given birth to him and moved in with his father, she would wear a crisp and clean white shirt with a red skirt, green tie and brown waist coat. Her mesmerising hair would be left down and the light dusting of freckles would stand out more prominently on her face in the sunlight.

But it had been years since she had left and he had not heard a word from her, no letter, no telegram nothing. But he had come accept that he would probably never see his mother again and he guessed that was the way that it was meant to be.

Walking down a nearby path he was glad that in moments like this he had time to reflect and think about where his family could be now as they seemed to all have left him, keeping his head up he walked a little further towards the bakery.

However it seemed that fate had decided to take him from his normal route home as he had decided to take the long way back behind the bars and hotels. As he walked he noticed a muscular brown haired man in a grey waistcoat being attacked by a group of thugs with pocket knives.

The man being assaulted looked to be in his mid twenties with scruffy hair and matching hawk like brown eyes, the thugs wore matching black suits with oiled and slicked back hair that shone in the vague and dim street light that shinned down upon them.

The taller of the two branded a knuckle duster made out of what looked like bronze metal, remnants of stale blood still lingered on it weather it was blood from the brunette man he could not tell.

The shorter and more pudgy one held a switch blade in hand and began to cuss the man out with colourful insults that would make any man cringe from the though of words like that being directed at them.

"You've had time Dewitt, why you're no better that those niggers are you?"

Fighting every fibre in his being which was to leave him be and not to get him self into anymore trouble, sighing he clenched his fists and raised his hand towards the taller thug who seemed to be in his late twenties.

A shard of ice shot out from his gloved hand and impaled the thug in the stomach, the crystal shard dipped in crimson blood that slid down it in the most delightful way, the brown haired man who was being assaulted looked up at Clyde in surprise and took this opportunity to snatch the other thugs pocket knife and stab him with it, leaving him a gurgling mess on the floor desperately clinging on to what little life he had left.

The two thugs lay on the ground choking on their own blood and clutching at their stomachs. There was only two words that Clyde could think of at this moment in time when death seemed to all but surround him in this dark damp ally way.

Beautiful Brutality…..

The brunet man sighed and looked back at Clyde after pocketing the knife from the thug's chest, he looked down upon the small boy in front of him with both curiosity and suspicion after all the kid had just murdered someone with an ice shard and didn't at all seem fazed about it.

"Thanks kid, I was sure I was gonna be a goner." His voice was deep and rough, slightly patronising but intriguing as well; he looked as if he had already been through so much in the fraction of time he had spent on this earth.

"Sure." Clyde had replied looking down and scuffing his feet on the cold floor that now had drops of blood lingering in ever crack and crevasse in the floor. "So…. What's your name then kid?"

"Clyde sir and you?" Clyde looked up towards the man who had kneeled down beside him; his light brown hair lightly covered his eyes making him look slightly feral but mysterious. His thin lips seemed to be permanently formed into a line of contentment.

"Booker Dewitt."

The pregnant silence between them did not last for long but it was awkward none the less.

"Well, Clyde I was just about to head home and from the looks of it you could use somewhere to crash for the night."

He looked up at Booker in disbelief, was this man who he had only just met offering him some salvation and kindness that he had not seen since he was only a young boy, when he belonged somewhere and people were inclined to be nice to him on a regular basis.

"Sorry I don't need charity I can get by just fine on my own."

"Well then consider it payment for saving my ass back there." Booker offered out his hand to the frail boy that sat next to him, this could fill the hole that Anna had left him, give some other purpose or even get him to finally straighten out his life.

Reaching up with shaking hands and uncertainty clear in his bright blue eyes, Clyde grasped hold of Bookers outstretched hand and wrapped his tiny fingers around Bookers colossal and callused ones. Their hands seemed fit perfectly together as Booker looked down at the small boy and lightly smiled causing Clyde to lightly grin in relief, Finally, finally he had found someone who had shown him real kindness.

The pair walked back to Bookers apartment that night hand in hand, both having gained something from this one pure and simple experience, Booker had found something worth fighting for and Clyde had found something to keep him hoping that someday life would get better.

**Character Profiles: **

**Name: Clyde Harper**

**Date of Birth: 16/12/1891**

**Age: 21**

**Arrived in Columbia: 1912**

**Mother: Rosalind Lutece **

**Father: James Harper**

**Other family: Robert Lutece (Uncle)**

**Hair: Black**

**Eyes: Blue**

**Name: Booker Dewitt**

**Date of Birth: 19/4/1874**

**Age: 38**

**Arrived in Columbia: 1912**

**Mother: Unknown **

**Father: Unknown**

**Other family: Anna Dewitt (Daughter)**

**Hair: Brown**

**Eyes: Brown**

**Name: Elizabeth Comstock**

**Date of Birth: 1893**

**Age: 19**

**Arrived in Columbia: 1893**

**Mother: presumed to be Lady Comstock**

**Father: presumed to be Zachery Comstock**

**Other family: Songbird (Guardian)**

**Hair: Brown**

**Eyes: Blue**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the lack of updates but i have been busy with exams in these last few weeks, next update will be soon but im going to start working on my far cry 4 fic when that comes out.**

**Please don't ask me for Booker/Clyde because that's not going to happen, sorry to burst your bubble but those two will have a very father son relationship going on.**

**Booker see's him as a replacement of sorts for Anna while Clyde see's him as the father he never really had.**

**Clyde's ice powers are going to come into play soon.**

**As you can see, Clyde doesn't really remember his mother in the same way that Booker doesn't really remember what happened to Anna, as far as he remembers, Lyanna (OC) and Anna died in child birth.**

**R&R's are hugely appreciated.**

**You have all been really supportive in terms of favourites and follows so thank you for that.**

**Bioshock belongs to 2k GAMES**

**till next time **

**xxx**

A long decade had passed, Booker had taken in Clyde and raised him as the son he had never had. They young boy that he had met was now twenty one years old.

A man by society standards, in reality though he was more of a man than most by the time he had turned fourteen

His ice abilities had gotten slightly more under control, Booker was fully aware of his young protogee could do and surprisingly he welcomed it, knowing that it would be a valuable trait for when he went into the field.

Clyde could now conjure living snow men to come to their aid if one of their targets refused to co-operate, he could also use some of his shards of ice as throwing knives or blades, a habit that had become very useful over the years.

The skinny boy he met behind a bar had received a good education and a warm meal every night which is more than can be said for most kids.

Booker was truly glad that he had Clyde to rely on, the young boy had helped to fill the hole that Anna and Lyanna had left, he wondered if Clyde and Anna would have gotten along, maybe they would have been little tricksters together and cause all sorts of mischief.

Even now as they two approached the docks as the rain hammered down upon them, Booker could see how much Clyde had changed.

The doe eyed boy had turned into a towering figure, only a few feet smaller that Booker himself, Clyde's eyes remained a crystal blue while upon his head was a mass of messy dark hair that was usually slicked back, however the rain had made it stick up in places and dampened his hairstyle.

His young partner had helped him to straighten out and sober up when it came to his impending career, Clyde knew that Bookers job could leave a lot of physical scars, but never less he had always done what ever he could to help improve the older man.

Both men had agreed to take their latest assignment with little to no complaints, money was tight and Booker had decided to start putting some money to the side, if ever he were to die in action, he would never want for Clyde to be out on the street and living off other peoples sympathy as he had previously done as a child.

That night as the moon rose high and cast a hushed white glow over the damp docks that had been soaked by the late night storm, Booker brooded on the minor things on life like alcohol and the well needed pay checks, he looked over to Clyde who was sitting contently On the side of the dock with a machete knife in hand.

Clyde looked up from the machete that he had been inspecting and gestured to the small rowing boat in the distance that seemed to be floating towards them.

" Well it looks like that our ride."

The two got into a small rowing boat that was occupied by a man and a woman in yellow rain coats, the two rowed them to the light house in the distance.

"Are you going to just sit there."

"As oppose to what? standing."

"Not standing rowing."

"Rowing? Hadn't planned on it."

The woman handed Booker a mahogany case with his name indented onto it.

"Would you like me to help sir?" Clyde asked the man who wouldn't seem to shut up about the stupid rowing .

The auburn haired man smiled warmly at the young man, taking him up on his offer, Clyde switched places with the woman and proceeded to help with the rowing.

"Thank you, you see sister, He rows!" The man shouted over the thunder and crashing waves.

"Yes he does, doesn't he." She mused.

The twins inspected the dark haired man intently, Rosalind looked upon him with sadness while Robert had an expression of wonder and intrigue about him as if he was studding the young man in front of him.

Something in the back of Clyde's mind seemed to be tugging at him, had he seen her before? she looked so familiar.

It was if he recognised her from somewhere, maybe he had seen her in New York before, then again maybe he was just misplacing her for someone else.

"How is the rowing Clyde?" Robert asked him, it put Clyde on edge slightly, knowing fully well that he had not given his name to this man who was starting to creep him out.

"It's a great workout if i do say so myself, however my clothes are quite wet in this moment." He answered with a grin on his face.

Clyde's damp clothes clung to him and caused him discomfort as he pushed the oars back and forth, he grinned at the two scientists and chuckled before addressing his guardian who sat in the back of the boat.

"Booker how are we doing back there."

Booker looked up from the box and loaded the gun in his hand.

"Just fine Clyde, just fine."

They pulled up at a board walk near the lighthouse that shone brightly into the distance. Booker climbed up the wooden ladder with Clyde following closely behind him.

"Hey is someone supposed to be meeting us here?" Booker called out to the twins who had proceeded to row back to the mainland.

"I hope so." Robert answered him.

The two men watched as the brother and sister became a speck of yellow in the distance.

Clyde turned back to the older man and suggested that they head inside and wait for their client in the lighthouse.

"Let go inside, its freezing out here ."

Booked nodded and ushered the young man inside, upon entering the lighthouse they were presented with a basin of water with a sign upon it saying.

'Of thy sins, shall i wash thee.'

Clyde proceeded to dry himself of with a towel from one of the nearby chairs, as he rubbed his hair dry he noticed that Bookers eyes seemed to linger upon the basin of water, it was if he were caught in an inescapable trance.

Clyde walked up to the elder man and looked to the sign which seemed to have been weaved by carefully hands out of blue and white thread.

"Wash thy sins huh, sounds like such bullshit, am I right Booker?" He asked.

"Good luck with that, pal."

The two made their way upstairs, lightly footed Clyde winced at the loud creek of his shoes combined with the old staircase. "Is anyone here, hello?" Booker called as he made his way over to the bronze telephone which lay on the desk.

The loud thunder was drowned out by the music coming from the the radio, the dim lamp light cast a sinister shadow over the upper floor, Clyde pocketed the silver coins on the table while Booker attempted to contact someone, he put down the phone and made his way to the second story of stairs.

Grasping the metal railing he made his ascent to the third floor, Clyde followed on his heels, egger to keep up with his mentor.

Upon making their way to the upper floor Clyde gasped at the sight of a dead body sitting on a bloody chair with a bag over his head, around his neck was a plank that read.

'Don't disappoint us.'

"Shit." Booker said under his breath, he moved closer to examine the rusty butcher knives that were coated in dried blood, from the looks of it, he must have been dead for hours.

Poor guy, that's fucked up.

Clyde rushed to get upstairs and away from the ghastly sight, as he climbed to the top the rain blew through his hair and made him shiver at the cold sharp wind. Looking over the railing he noted that he could no longer see the sea, only the clouds, since it would be a long drop drown it would be best to be observant in times such as these.

He turned around to see three brass bells that had been newly polished, each bell had been inscribed with a different symbol, once showed a scroll while the other had a key and the last was a knife, He ran a gloved finger over the delicate symbols, a small coating of frost began to form over the surface of the bells.

Clyde sighed and dove his hands back into his pockets, he hated his affliction and simply wished to be rid of it, Booker saw it as an advantage but Clyde simply say it as a curse.

He leaned against the railing as he waited for Booker to come bounding up the stairs, maybe he had something that would solve the little bell puzzle.

"Booker, come take a look at this." He called to this Mentor who had moved over to him.

"Here try this." He replied handing Clyde a card with a precise order in which to ring the bells.

"Thanks."

He rang the scroll once, the key twice and the knife twice again. He reared back in shock as the a loud horn sound seemed to blare through the sky, Booker looked up the the sky and whispered.

"What in the world..."

Bells and intricate mechanisms seemed to change and move in reply as the bell gate opened to reveal two red leather chairs, the two looked at each other and shrugged before moving towards the chairs.

"I guess they expect us to sit in their fancy chairs?" The older man questioned

"I guess so." Clyde replied as he moved to sit in the chair, the leather was comfortable and cool against his back, Booker followed in suit and sat in the second chair. As he sat down, restraints wrapped around their hands, the two struggled and shouted out for someone to release them, instead the walls seemed to c,lose in on them and a mechanical voice blared over their shouts of protest.

_Prepare your selves pilgrims, the bindings are there as a safeguard,_

"No, no god damn it!" Booker cried as his pistol fell into the flames bellow them.

"Dewitt what did you do by taking this job?!" Clyde questioned, the panic in his voice was clear as he struggled to remove the straps around his wrists.

"I don't know!"

_Ascension__ in the count of five, in the count of four, in the count of three._

"Holly shit!"

_In the count of two_

"Do something Harper, you have the ice powers here."

_In the count of one_

"You owe me a drink after this Booker."

_Ascension, Ascension, Five thousand feet._

"Stay calm, stay calm, stay clam." Booker chanted to himself, Clyde looked up to the sky and mumbled something along the lines of a prayer of sorts.

_Ten thousand feet, fifteen thousand feet._

_Hallelujah_

Clyde opened his eyes, the sight was miraculous, the sun hung high in the sky as the clouds moulded with the buildings. Was this heaven?

"Wha.." Booker stumbled, the two were in awe of the city in the clouds, it was beautiful.

"It's glorious." His young partner concluded, his mouth was agape while his crystal blue eyes were opened wide as they passed the the floating buildings. They continued to look on in wonder until they came to a crashing halt, the pod they were in sped down past the many gears and clockworks.

_why would he send his saviour onto us_

_If we will not raise a finger for our own salvation_

_And though we deserved not his mercy_

_He has led us to this new Eden_

_A last chance for redemption._


End file.
